Quondam
by taligator
Summary: He lived in silence and solitude, outcast. Then, fate dropped in and changed his life.
1. Chapter 1

Quondam

Summary: Sometimes happily ever after is only in books

Status: WIP

* * *

It was that time of night again, like every night before. He'd sleep a few hours and be awake and unable to fall back asleep. He'd lay there thinking of his life and how he'd once wondered if he'd make it to age 17, now he was creeping up on 35.

He painfully pulled himself out of bed and began the slow journey around his home, the only good thing his fame had given him. He touched the last photo of Ron and Hermione that he had, after the last battle they'd turned their back on him. He was a pariah in the wizarding world, even his own friends had turned him out.

They hadn't wanted to sully their own lives or deal with his recovery. What a joke, how do you recover from killing thousands of people who may or may not have been guilty? They'd died at his hands, at his whim they said. A whim he'd been dealing with since his birth.

He'd created a magical vortex which had sucked an entire village into it and obliterated them and the surrounding land. There was nothing left but a crater and long memories.

He'd been shunned for it despite it being THEM he'd saved. Neither Tom Marvolo Riddle nor Lord Voldemort had survived, neither had his followers.

He'd given them security and peace and they'd given him a house with land. They'd wanted to send him to prison but the initial public outcry had persuaded them otherwise. Instead, they'd made him outcast. That's where the house and land came in, a place for him to be sentenced, a place they could keep an eye on him.

He'd been gravely injured and it had been a long road back to his current shuffling state. It had taken repeated treatments to regrow his muscles, ligaments, tendons, and bones. His left arm, both knees and ankles has been shattered in the blast. He was covered in newly grown skin which would never grow hair again, that they couldn't attain despite many attempts. Many months in a magical healing crisis had atrophied the newly grown body parts and that meant many more months of physical therapy to get him back on his feet.

The biggest loss to him, the one that pleased them the most was the loss of his voice. There were magical resources for those who were mute but they had refused to share them with him because he was safer without a voice. Through diligent work of his own he'd taught himself to speak again, but it had taken years. Even now it was harsh and gravely to his own ears and surely to anyone who heard him speak, though he never let on that he could speak.

He'd lived on his own since they'd released him from St. Mungo's and he relished the silence and solitude. A Medi-Nurse had cared for him after he'd been released from the hospital until he could easily move on his own.

They'd all left him alone, fearing he'd take them down next. It would have been lonely if he hadn't spent so much of his childhood alone.

Truth told he didn't mind it. He spent his time reading and learning anything he could get his hands on. He started with children's books and games because he'd been denied them as a child, then he worked up to reading everything he could about the magical world and the muggle world.

He lived in his solitude and the last psychiatrist they'd made him see had pronounced him 'cured but mildly agoraphobic'. The thought of flying made him physically ill, it'd once been his salvation now it was his jailor.

He'd never told them of his being raised in a cupboard as a child. They hadn't needed more fodder for their fight. It would have been the Dursleys that would have also paid his price and he held no grudge against them. They may not have been the loving parents he'd dreamed of but they'd provided him a much needed refuge and normalcy through his years at Hogwarts.

He kept in contact with Remus and no others. Remus had also been injured but his ability to transform had saved him many years of painful treatment. He too lived in seclusion, deep in the woods, and Harry didn't know where and that was fine with him.

Dawn was approaching and he stood to go outside. Outside, he stretched up toward it, seeking the beginnings of warmth. He despised the winters here but would not leave.

Closing his eyes, he sighed. He'd never be able to leave, the Ministry made certain of that. Even if he could, it was unlikely he'd do so, he feared the change. With a sigh of resignation he began the task of his thrice daily walk around the perimeter of his land.

His muscles would seize up if he didn't and it also gave him a chance to collect the herbs, plants, and vegetables for his daily needs. He made many of his own potions, tinctures, and tonics but ordered the more complex from a reputable source. He was grateful that he could owl order everything since the visits to the local villages and larger ones, like Diagon Alley took time to get over. He hated being in public, the stares and whispers haunted him for days afterwards.

He was still in Scotland, that much he knew. They'd asked him where he wanted to live and he'd been compelled to stay in Scotland, land of the only true home he'd known. Sometimes he regretted it but mostly not.

The air was misty gray but the rust colors of the sun were trying to dig through the grayness. The air was thick and filled his lungs and covered his skin. He could imagine being the fog and drifting over the land, nothing escaping his touch then moving away when the sun came to claim him, only to return when it went away.

He'd researched particulate matter and apparation for a while, wanting to know if he could find a way to stay in that form instead of becoming whole again. He was bound by his cellular structure, but would be free like the fog. That wasn't to say he wanted to die or kill himself, but he was tired of the limits his body placed on him.

His limbs that seized up on him, the voice that could barely speak out against the injustices against him, and the nightmares that lived to kill him.

He wanted out of it all.

Standing on the edge of his property, he looked down at the sea. He'd never touched it even though it beckoned him. In the distance he could see other islands like his and he wondered who lived there, if they were outcasts like him or just normal people. Though, some would argue that normal people wouldn't live on an island in the sea, certainly an area as harsh as Scotland could be.

Feeling the chill penetrate his heavy cloak he turned and began the trek home. A flash of black at the corner of his eye and he turned. His reflexes, slowed from lack of use didn't allow him to move quick enough to get out of the way of the large black form that was gaining speed and heading straight at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Quondam

Summary: Sometimes happily ever after is only in books

Status: WIP

* * *

The form landed on him, flattening him to the chilled ground, breath whooshing out from his lungs. He smelled of herbs, smoke, and blood. Death clung to him like the fog clings to the cliffs. Thick silver hair obscured his vision and he swiped at it to get it away from his mouth and nose.

Harry pushed ineffectually at the form, desperate for breath. He didn't have much strength in his arms; especially his left arm and he lay there underneath the body waiting. He felt a tremor of a heartbeat at his chest and movement of breath against his stomach. A leg twitched and jerked against his legs.

He caught his breath and it fluttered the silver hair that lay quiescent on his cheek. The man smelled familiar and he closed his eyes for a moment to capture the memories. He spent much of his time trying to forget that recalling the memories was difficult. He opened his eyes when the figure shifted. He looked into dark eyes and shifted backward, to get away.

Snape.

He was about to say something when the black eyes rolled back in his head and then his head fell forward, a sharp chin banging against his cheek. Cursing softly he tried to maneuver the body off of his, rocking side to side he finally gained enough momentum to roll the body off of his. Snape slid off of him and landed rather jarringly onto his back, still unconscious.

He rolled onto his side and looked at the man who'd been as much a part of his life as his wand. He'd been there since the beginning of his life as a wizard. Snape had seen him when he was victorious, when he was humiliated, when he failed them all, when he struggled to take back his life and even when he'd hobbled away to his exile. He'd ridiculed him, praised him, hated him, forced him to own up to himself and not put him on a pedestal. Every bad and good thing in his life was somehow connected to this man whom time had not been kind to.

He was gaunt and gray. The sunken cheeks only accentuated his eyes, though he could no longer see, he knew were filled with unspeakable things.

His hand moved toward the face, trembling in his need to connect with this man. A brief touch to the hollow of his cheek, startled at the coolness, he pulled back. He needed to get him inside but the task was daunting. He had no wand, his voice only worked half the time and he barely had the strength to move himself, much less another grown man, even one as thin as Snape.

Getting to his knees he began patting down Snape, trying to find a wand. He was even thinner than he'd originally guessed; he could feel each rib as his hands slid down his sides. His stomach was curved inward, causing his hipbones to protrude sharply. Once finely muscled thighs and calves were now thin and spindly, Harry felt a shimmer of pity then one of determination overtook it. He had no idea why Snape was here but he was certain it was for a good reason.

Reaching the backside of Snape, he felt a small stick-like object in the back pocket of his pants. He slid his hand along the curve of his buttock, fingers catching a small piece of wood. In the light he saw that it was a wand, but only the tip was left with a few stray pieces sticking out of the top. A quick inspection and it looked as though it was hair from an animal, which, he did not know.

Clearing his throat he tried a simple spell, "_lumos_", it croaked out, barely recognizable but apparently it was enough; the wand tip flared and lit a small perfect circle of light, "_nox_" and the light went out as quickly as it came. Smiling he clutched it in his hand and stood, "_mobilicorpus_". Snape's body began rising to waist height, it dipped briefly and resolutely regained height and floated alongside him as he began trudging back toward his home.

The trip to the point and back usually took a little over an hour, it took an hour just to get back home with Snape today. He'd never realized how much energy it took to hold a spell and walk. The fog held no fascination for him as he watched it cover the black cloak beside him, making the man wetter and colder than before.

The last bit to the house was the most difficult; he was cold, wet, and exhausted. He almost dropped Snape several times but mustered enough energy to pull him back up, nearer to the end the body was only a foot from the ground, and he could not bring it any higher.

There were no steps into or out of his house, his legs wouldn't allow it. He was even more thankful now as he moved inside the comforting warmth of his home.

He carefully guided Snape into his room, he'd never had guests in his life so a spare room never made much sense to him, and he regretted that now. Methodically he began removing Snape's clothes while he hovered in the air, throwing the wet clothes out into the hallway. He maneuvered the naked body into the bathroom and began running a warm bath, adding several of his own healing tonics to the water.

Very carefully he lowered him into the water, while supporting his head and upper body with his one good arm. With a tremendous sigh of relief, he released the spell. His entire body vibrated with the effort it took to maintain magic for that period of time. He slid down the side of the bathtub and rested, keeping Snape safely above water. He'd need a bath once this was over. He was drenched with sweat and wet from the fog.

Many minutes later he roused himself to begin bathing Snape. His skin had pinked in the warm water and Harry was happy to see that there were no real injuries on him other than that of starvation. He allowed the heavy body to slide down further into the water so he could wash the stringy and dirty hair that hung limp around his head.

His good arm was sorely fatigued and he hurried through the task, he could always do it again later. Draining the water he left Snape lounged against the back of the bathtub while he fetched a few towels from the cupboard. One he wrapped around his head in a turban and the other he patted and rubbed at all the skin he could see while he was still in the tub. An arm underneath and he rolled him to the side and swiped at the still wet skin along his backside and as far as he could reach.

Mustering his own energy, he clutched the stub of a wand and whimpered the command to lift him in the air. His strength low and waning, only allowed him to get Snape mere inches from the ground as they moved out the door toward the bed. A grit of determination and he put everything he had left into it and brought him high enough to place on the bed. Both dropped to the bed, bouncing.

He fell into a deep sleep, body draped over Snape; an awkward position he'd regret later but for now, his body was too tired to care.


	3. Chapter 3

Quondam

Summary: Sometimes happily ever after is only in books

Status: WIP

* * *

The light was fading when he woke, legs wracked in spasms and he slid off the bed to the floor trying to undo the damage hed caused. Tears beating at his eyes as he tried to straighten his legs. Fingers digging deep into the muscles of his thighs and then calves he tried to bring arouse the circulation in his legs.

Clutching the side of the bed he stood on weak legs and did several knee bends, wavering at the last he quickly sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Snape. He lay in quiet repose, still like death. He was breathing but his thinness kept it from being visible. He reached for him again, pulling back at the last second. He needed to shower but was still very tired physically and magically depleted. Magic, unlike natural resources, tended to fade if it wasn't used consistently.

Foregoing a bath, he haltingly crawled over Snape and lay on his back next to him, asleep within moments.

--

He woke curled up against a source of heat, his skin was bare and he had no idea how he got to be where he was or how he came to be naked. He carefully extracted himself from the warmth and looked down at it with trepidation. A human body, a male body to be precise and Severus Snape was nothing if not precise.

He looked around the room and saw little but shadows and darkness. Neither pleased him because there were bad things in the dark. He quickly reached for the coverlet at the foot of the bed and pulled it up over himself and the body. He unconsciously moved into the heat and safety that he remembered feeling as he woke just a few moments ago.

The dreams rolled over him like waves on the sand, crashing and soaking him with their presence. Like all his dreams they were inexplicable, faceless, and terrifying. He feared sleeping long periods of time because they played in his head like children on a Quidditch field. More than he feared sleep, he feared being awake. When he was awake he was in control of his mind and he'd replay his life over and over, magnifying the bad parts and overshadowing the good ones. He lived in his own created hell and when the night of darkness came his own mind wreaked havoc on his unprotected mind. He created his nightmares and fears.

He woke digging at his eyes. He couldn't see. He never could when he woke. His sight was always taken from him and he felt a desperation that couldn't be matched. It was this dream that stopped him from his potion making. His potion making was his lifeline; it'd been there for him since he was young. He valued and relished it above all else. If he couldn't see, he couldn't be a master at potions. He feared the day he'd wake without his sight and it would be real and he knew that he'd never make another potion again. He cut himself off from it, removed it like a sliver from his skin. He cut out his own heart in anticipation of what he felt was the prophecy of his dreams.

He looked around the room, satisfied that for another day he had his sight and saw the boy again. A hand on the thin should and he pulled to roll the body to him. Closer he came. The heat from the boy was astonishing. He was pure heat. Pure as flame.

The hair was dark and shaggy, a memory of Sirius Black flickered across his mind and he pushed it aside and looked deeper. It covered his face like a mask, protecting him from prying eyes. He tucked the longer pieces behind an earlobe and looked along the lines of the cheek, the corner of the eye, and the tinged pink scar on his forehead.

Potter.

His fingers danced across the scar and fluttered down the cheek to touch the sleep pouting lips.

Potter.

Everyone's savior, he couldn't save himself though. He didn't know how he got here, how he ended up in the bed and likely home of Harry Potter.

A soft sigh escaped the lips under his fingers and it touched him, warm and moist. He waited for movement to see the boy's eyes, to see the truth as he knew it.

He pressed his fingers into the lips, touching teeth. The jaw flexed and the mouth opened slightly letting a warm slick tongue touch his fingers. He could slide inside and grip his jaw, breaking it. A lone thin leg slid closer touching his and sliding along it like he slid along the lips. Closer and closer. An arched back and a sigh of whisper, the hands twitched and reflexively clutched at the air. Then it happened, his eyes opened. Unveiled.

A blink of sleep replaced with a quirk of recognition and his answer, joy.

--

The fingers on his tongue brought him to waking. He tasted herbs and sweat. What would he find when he opened his eyes? He knew what he felt but he did not know why. He did not know how he'd lived alone so long, without the breath of another against him. Excluding the medical staff there'd been no one in his home since he'd moved in. These walls hadn't heard conversations and felt feelings. These walls couldn't talk just like their owner. He felt joy. He was no longer alone.

He opened his eyes to tell the heat and breath beside him just how he felt.

--

Severus stared in shock, how was joy to be found in those eyes? Is he the one who is without eyes?

"Mr. Potter," He asserted himself and received acknowledgement that he did know whom he lay next to. His voice is not strong like it should have been, it felt and sounded weak.

Harry nodded, dislodging the fingers still in his mouth, pervading his taste buds. There were trails of wet down his chin as they slid out and kept touch of his skin, coming to rest at his throat.

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head - defiant as always.

"Hell," was his only response. The voice was hideous with disuse and it was apparently as painful to use as it was to hear.

He curled his hand around Harry's neck with a thumb at his windpipe. He let me touch him like that, trusting fool.

"Mr. Potter, you've been hidden for a very long time. Was your fame not enough, you had to go into hiding for even more?" Derision poured from his lips into the ears so close.

Harry's cheek twitched and his jaw tightened, he swallowed harshly and it could be felt all the way down.

Harry was curled around his body like a snake curls around its victims. He was not to be a victim of Harry Potter and he tightened his hold on that pale throat beneath his hands. Pressing into that vulnerable skin until crimson peeked from the crescent underneath his nail.

He just closed his eyes.

Where was his Harry Potter? The one who would fight for looking at him sideways? Only memories are left of that boy, just like he was truly only a memory of his former self. We were both ravages of our own lies.

He released his life from his grip, touch softening and then soothing. "I'm sorry."

Severus Snape never apologized.

--

He apologized. Where was his Severus Snape? His confusion must have shown on his face as Severus scowled and it made him smile.

His was a long length underneath his body and he couldn't say what possessed him to push against that body. He couldn't say with words what he needed to but he could show him his joy. As he moved, so did Severus. His hand slid upwards to cup his neck, tilting it upward like a sunflower to sun. He touched his near white hair and softly stroked it down against the hollows of his cheek and Severus' eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the touch.

He pressed his lips to that same cheek and breathed in the scent of him that even soap could not remove.

"Missed you," He whisper into Severus' ear that was so close.

He just scoffed and the breath whirled around his ear.


	4. Chapter 4

Quondam

Summary: Sometimes happily ever after is only in books

Status: WIP

* * *

His traitorous and thieving legs began to cramp and he gasped in pain as he tried to extricate himself from Severus' hold. He felt the loss immediately and wanted to go back but the pain made it impossible. Falling back onto his back he began to grapple with one of his spastic legs while Severus began massaging the other. It felt like heaven and he stopped his own actions and relaxed under the touch of another.

Severus sighs and rolled his eyes as he went limp under his touch, he must have been insufferable and lazy again. The thought made the both of them smile.

After what felt like mere seconds, the cramps eased and he removed his hands. Laying there with his eyes closed he can still feel the long fingers as they dug into muscle and skin. Severus was staring, he could feel that too and then he's turning toward him because he's so close that he can reach out so easily and pull him even closer.

He still didn't understand why he's there but he is sure that Severus doesn't know why either. There were a lot of things he didn't understand about the way his life worked but he knew himself. He knew what he needed. Moving to prop himself up on his elbow Severus is even closer and he moved even closer, chest to chest close and reached behind him to the nightstand. His breath quickens and he tries to hold it in but it escapes in a hush.

He retrieves a notebook and muggle pen from the nightstand, not trusting his voice enough to hold a conversation yet, the notebook would have to suffice.

He moved back down, sliding against him as much as he could. He can't help it. He's aching for touch.

He swallowed nervously and looked into Severus' dark eyes that don't have as much shadow as they did before and he started to write.

'_My vocal cords were severely damaged and it has only been in the last year that I've begun speaking again.'_ He sighed and looked at him as he reads. He can see the confusion and anger writhing on his face, warring with each other.

"Why haven't they repaired your vocal cords? That is first year mediwizardry." He sounds impatient.

'_They told me the damage was too extensive, irreparable. I've tried potions, healing, herbs, and even muggle surgery. Nothing will help.'_

He snorted. The man had the nerve to snort at his plight.

"Who has supplied your potions? I know I haven't."

Ahh, there was his Severus Snape, he'd been hiding. _'Raoul Roctoff, of Bolivia. He was highly recommended by St. Mungo's. He supplies all my potions.'_

Severus snorted again the sound incongruous with his personality. "He cannot be very good, I've never heard of him and you are still damaged. There is little potions cannot cure. As usual Potter, someone will have to take care of you."

Severus proceeded to slide out of the bed, the coverlet sliding off him as he went, exposing his thin pale body. Apparently the conversation had ended; he'd never been one for long discussions.

"Where are my clothes?"

Harry pointed toward the hallway at the soggy puddle that lay there.

"You couldn't be arsed to care for them could you? Those were nice robes and now they are likely mildewed and ruined." He stalked toward the puddle of clothes and gingerly picked at them.

Rolling his eyes he began to wonder why he'd missed the nasty Potions Professor of his youth. It wasn't as though he had good manners or was polite company. Perhaps it was his familiarity, his sarcasm and his ability to be grounding.

Severus sighed and turned back into the room, heading for the closet. He felt no hesitation in reaching in and liberating a robe. Quickly shrugging it over his shoulders he left the room again and Harry heard him rummaging around in the kitchen; presumably looking at the potions and salves stored there.

Grumbling he pulled himself out of bed and stepped into the jeans and t-shirt that were half-shoved under his bed. He limped out of the room towards the errant Professor.

He leaned against the doorjamb and watched as he poked at the salves and smelling them, then massaging into the skin. He muttered under his breath and moved onto the potions. Taking salt from the larder he poured the healing potions over it to watch for the reaction, smug satisfaction crossed his face and he found sugar and processed them in the same way. Finding a knife in the drawer he sliced open the pad of his finger and poured one of the potions over it.

He washed off his hand and pressed a kitchen towel over the bleeding wound and turned to look at Harry. "You've used these potions for how long? Did I not teach you anything? I know you weren't the brightest student but honestly, this is pitiful. These are nothing more than colored and flavoured water. How could you be so stupid?" He threw each of the bottles in the rubbish bin with disgust. "Why didn't you come to me? We may not have liked each other but I wouldn't have let you suffer." He leaned on the counter and stared down at it as though seeing something that wasn't really there.

Harry sat down heavily in a chair. "Why?"

Severus turned to look at him, "I thought you couldn't speak."

He shrugged, "short words."

"You honestly have to ask why? If you stayed lame you were less of a threat."

He fished for a tablet and pen that were buried underneath the junk on the table. _'That explains my situation, what about you? Why do you look like you crawled through the nine levels of hell?'_

With a snort, he sat down in a chair and shoving papers and books aside. "Voldemort used me just as much as Dumbledore did. I just didn't fully realize it until the end. Both were willing to sacrifice me to win their war. When Voldemort realized you were truly going to kill him, he turned on me. He cast the same spell on me that he cast on you. He made our worst nightmares come true."

Puzzlement must have shown on my face as it started him on a tirade.

"Stupid boy, you are terrified of being alone. Never loved, never wanted. Isn't that your life right now? Aren't you exiled from the only world you cared about? You have no family that cares about you, your only friends deserted you, and your idol turned his back on you. You live alone and crippled in a remote part of Scotland. Each time you venture out there are dozen of Aurors following you around to make certain you don't interact with anyone and to make sure you go back home. You may as well be in Azkaban."

He took a deep breath and tried to will down the tears stinging in his eyes. The brutality of it all struck him hard and even though he knew all this it hurt to have it pointed out so blatant and harsh. "You?"

"That I'll save for another day, right now you need new potions in order to recuperate." Severus found an owl order catalog underneath the last few weeks of the Daily Prophet. Confiscating Harry's paper and pen he began flipping through the pages and making a long list of potions ingredients. "I don't suppose you actually HAVE any raw ingredients do you?" He looked up at Harry with a narrowed gaze.

He really felt like telling him to take his supply list and shove it but decided that having his life back was more important if that meant helping Snape, he'd do it. He pointed out a small cupboard on the far end of the kitchen. "Herb garden"

Severus nodded and took his catalog and paper to the cupboard and crouched down in front, digging through it and scowling. He tossed more bottles into the rubbish bin and wrote even more on his list.

Watching him, he tried not to think of the outcome. The 'what if's' would drive him crazy otherwise. He wanted Severus to be wrong, wanting to be incurable because then the safe world he'd created would not be destroyed. He elected to stay in the house when Severus stormed out the back door and into the garden, list in hand. He started when his stomach growled and then stood and began gathering items to make breakfast. Toast and eggs, the same thing he had every day.

Severus blew back into the kitchen, borrowed robes flying behind him showing off bits of white leg. "Tell me everything that is wrong with you so I can make certain I have everything I need." He stared at the remnants of Harry's breakfast and then back up at Harry.

Finding another tablet he wrote as Severus prepared eggs and toast for his own breakfast. The extent of his injuries was quite large, the most obvious being the damage to the legs and voice. The more insidious were the arthritis in his hands and even his fear of flying.

Severus poured over the list and made adjustments adding more items. "It's really amazing you are still alive."

That stung and he shoved back from the table, the chair skittering across the floor and hitting the counter. Trying to stalk away with dignity when a limp prevents you from walking normally is near impossible but he had to try anyway. He made it to the library and slammed the door in a fit of anger.

Looking around his sanctuary he choked on the laughter that threatened to spill hysterically from his throat. Everything that used to mean something was in this room. The old brooms were in a case along one wall, one was in working order the others were smashed into bits. His wand lay next to it in a dark box that couldn't be seen into. He liked it hidden, because it reminded him too much of the way things were, not the way they are.

Old schoolbooks filled a portion of the bookshelves and even pieces of a school uniform hung in a closet. He still had the map and invisibility cloak though the cloak was half the size it used to be. It hadn't survived a fight with fire and half was burned off. He kept it even though he couldn't use it because it was one last piece of a life he'd never have.

Severus was right, he should be dead. Maybe the world would be a better place if he were to go away. He could fix that and save Severus the trouble of trying to heal his pathetic self. He thought he'd found peace with his life and his self until Severus crashed in on it. The closed mouth bastard wouldn't even say how he got here or why he looked the way he did, but he expected it of him. Limping over to the wand case, he opened it and stared inside.

He never opened the case because it made him feel what he didn't want to feel any longer. The wand no longer resembled the wand he'd bought so long ago; this was dinged, scratched and fading. He'd heard once that wands feed from their owners and that when they die, the wand dies with them. He wasn't dead yet but he didn't use it any longer and apparently it wasn't just death that killed wands.

He took it out of the case and it flared bright in his hand, recognizing its owner. Carrying it almost reverently in his palm he sat and laid it across his lap. It'd be quick, so very quick, if he could manage to say the words.

--

Severus stared at the door Harry had exited through and sighed. When things didn't go his way, Harry still threw tantrums. He searched the house for a fireplace to floo his order. He needed to send off this order. It would take him several days to complete all the potions and the sooner he started the sooner he'd be proven right. That's all he cared about; he certainly didn't care about Harry Potter.

He'd planned to send the list to a friend of his that wouldn't alert the authorities about his order. A Master of his skill wouldn't need such rudimentary supplies and it would look suspicious to the Ministry. What he hadn't told Harry is that they watched him just as closely and that he'd ran from his own home to escape them. He still didn't know how he ended up here but for the moment he wasn't going to complain, too loudly anyway.

Finding a small fireplace with a small container of floo powder he proceeded to make his call. His contact was of the less than reputable sort but that was exactly what he needed right now. He was assured the packages would be sent post haste via return floo. Satisfied, he left and went to search the rest of the house for a place to set up his lab. He stopped at the only closed door he found and touched it with his fingertips. He closed his eyes a moment and then walked off, leaving his fingers to trail along behind him, holding the touch as long as possible.

He found a room in the basement and began cleaning and procuring random pieces of furniture from the rest of the house to furnish it. Eventually he was satisfied with the results and he returned upstairs. It was past tea time and he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He often forgot to eat, usually too caught up in worrying to pay attention. Today though, he forgot because he was busy setting up his lab.

The door was still closed and he wondered, briefly, very briefly if Harry was OK. He reached for the knob and his hand hovered over it. He didn't hear anything inside but that wouldn't be abnormal since Harry didn't talk but he was still concerned. He was also hungry and he didn't cook anything but eggs and he'd already had those.

Coming to a decision he turned the knob slowly and eased open the door, peeking through the widening crack. He saw a foot sticking out at an odd angle from the wingback chair and he walked on cat's feet inside.

Harry was slouched in the chair. His head hung off to one side, mouth gaping open and wand clutched in his hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Quondam – Part Five

Author: Taligator  
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or fictitious locations; they belong to J. K. Rowling. All original plots belong to me.

Summary: He lived in silence and solitude, outcast. Then, fate dropped in and changed his life.

* * *

Rushing over to Harry, he fell on his knees before him. Touching two fingers to his neck he was both thrilled and angry at the strong pulse. Choking back on a sob he slid down to sit on the ground. Tears streaming from his eyes as he laid his head on Harry's knee, shoulders shaking violently. It was uncharacteristic of him and yet he could not help himself.

He was startled out of his pain and loss when he felt a hand on his head. He looked up and it slid down to cup his cheek.

"Severus?"

"I came in here, you … I … dead." The tears continued their journey down his cheeks leaving silvery streaks paler than his own skin on his cheeks.

Harry looked down at the wand in his hands and fingered it restlessly.

"Why would you do this? Am I so distasteful? Can you not bear to be around me?" The words that came out of his mouth surprised even him, had he been alone so long that he had no dignity left?

Harry leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was a brush of butterfly wings in flight. A gift given, when taken away, bereft.

Harry cleared his throat roughly. "I didn't," he paused and swallowed to moisten his still sleep dry mouth, "want to be a burden."

A burden? Harry thought he was a burden, even though it was he who wore his clothes, ate his food, and slept in his bed. He didn't want to be a burden to me?

He tried for more at my apparent puzzlement. "My injuries, healing me."

"You really are a stupid boy aren't you? How can one boy be so dense?"

That was the wrong thing to say as his face crumbled.

"Harry," he had to try to say something without hurting him more. "Have I changed that much that you thought I'd do something I didn't want to do without question? I am offering this to you."

His eyes reminded me of stream glass, the kind worn smooth by the water. A broken bottle that fell in and has never resurfaced. It was shiny on the edges and but the center dulled by time and wear.

"I never told you how I came to be here. I'm not entirely sure myself. I have spent my time in agony of fear. I am terrified that I'll lose the one thing precious to me, my sight; or more accurately, my ability to be a Potions Master. So much that I have willed myself into temporary blindness thereby proving my fear."

Harry curled his fingers into Severus' hair, gripping it as though to anchor him. His other hand slid in between the long fingers resting on his thigh.

"He gave us both the same fate when he knew he could not kill us. He wanted us to suffer and he made our worst nightmares come true. You, he saw as a threat, I was merely a thorn in his side." He moved restlessly against the chair and the hands holding him.

Harry released his hold on Severus to let him go if he needed it. Severus relaxed once he was free and pressed back against Harry.

Harry whispered, "A spell?" Harry whispered in awe. A spell had done this to him. He thought, he didn't know what he thought but it all seemed to make sense. Not one person was on his side anymore, Remus wasn't really on his side just an outcast like him and lonely.

"Why are you surprised? We are wizards after all. Unless you'd forgotten that you could cast spells like that. You never were much of …" Severus stopped abruptly. "Harry, I'm a bitter old man. I keep thinking of you when you were a student and even then it was unfair but I couldn't help it. I never said I was a righteous man." He lay his head down on Harry's knee and sighed. This was all much more difficult than he'd ever thought it could be.

Harry placed his palm on top of Severus' head and let it rest there. Waiting.

His voice was slightly muffled when he began speaking again. "The only thing I've come up with is that I wished myself away from where I was. Wished myself to a place I was needed and could stop worrying."

--

He'd never expected Severus to speak as plainly as he was. To admit that he needed to be needed, that was extraordinary for most people, even more so for Severus.

He wasn't a child any longer and Severus was no longer an authority figure in his life. Their dynamics had changed but the way they viewed each other had not. Slowly they were evolving, he had, after all, only been back in Harry's life for a day.

He was curious about the magic it took Severus to get here and if anyone else knew he was here. It explained most of his state when he arrived, minus the half-starved prison victim look. Of course, if he was living as scared as Harry was most of the time it was a wonder he didn't look worse.

He sat in his chair and softly stroked the warm head on his lap.

He was content.

They dozed in the comfort of truth and companionship.

A rough knock at the door startled them both out of their sleep, jerking them straight up.

Harry looked quizzically at the door and Severus seemed to fold in on himself. Harry leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of Severus' head and then stood. He wavered in place while he regained his balance, fingers reaching into the air for hold and then carefully stretched out his legs.

Walking to the front of the house, he kept a free hand on the wall for support. His left hand held the wand, clutched tightly. It felt comfortable there and he hadn't known that comfort for a long time.

He looked through the peephole, a muggle invention he'd added and saw that it was Remus. As though going through a process he unlocked, locked, and then unlocked each lock on the door starting from the top and working his way down. He liked locks.

--

Remus stood patiently on the steps of Harry's house, waiting for him to finish unlocking the door. He never knew why he had so many locks, he lived in the middle of nowhere and nobody ever visited. It was almost an obsession. Not to mention his incessant need to first unlock, relock, and then unlock each lock.

He hated to be here but they were worried about Harry. They'd sensed a burst of magic coming from his property and they sent Remus to check up on him. Their little spy once again. Harry trusted him and he shouldn't.

Finally the door opened and a sleepy-eyed Harry peered out at him, "Remus?" The words surprised him, Harry had lost his voice so long ago that he thought it odd to hear him speak, rough though it was.

"Harry," he really _was_ pleased and he let that show. "I wasn't expecting the voice to work, how have you been? Practicing it seems!" His entire life was a lie and now he lied to Harry's face, pretending to be cheery.

Harry nodded his head to the inside of the house, beckoning Remus in without words.

Apparently speaking was a low priority.

He stepped inside and waited for Harry to lock his door. He repeated the same process he did to unlock the door. Tedious.

Harry finished his task and walked them toward the kitchen. He began making a pot of tea without asking if Remus wanted any. He looked over the kitchen while Harry carefully measured tea and boiled water.

The waste bin was overflowing with potion bottles, herb packets, and various potion ingredients. He surreptitiously looked through the papers on the table, taking note of the large list of raw potions ingredients.

"Harry, they sent me here to check up on you. They noticed a very large magical burst yesterday morning and they wanted to know what it was. I've been authorized to bind you and give you a variant of _Veritaserum_ if you do not want to tell me willingly." Remus hated to say it, but knew Harry wouldn't speak freely. He didn't appear to trust anyone, not that he really blamed him. "The _Veritaserum_ opens up your mind and the variant vocalizes the thoughts. You won't be able to hide anything."

Harry turned toward him and Remus was able to see a spark of defiance and anger in his eyes.

"Don't make me use it Harry, just tell me what I need to know and I'll leave you alone. I didn't ask to come here."

Harry stiffened but continued making the tea and then turned to bring it to the table. He looked beyond Remus at the door and then back down at the table.

Harry's movement toward the table brought with it new scents, including one he'd never smelt in Harry's house before. He inhaled deeply to pinpoint the smell and he looked at Harry, narrowing his eyes.

Harry's guilty eyes darted back over Remus' head again and then back down to the table. Remus turned in his seat to catch a glimpse of dark green robes swirling away. He jumped up and charged after the robes.

"STOP!" Harry yelled out as loud as he could, his voice cracking and breaking in pain. Remus stopped and looked at Harry. Harry began coughing and could not stop. He spat into a handkerchief and Remus saw blood.

"Who is it Harry? Who are you hiding?" Remus wasn't certain he was pleased or angry. He was pleased that Harry was defying them, but angry that he was hiding someone from him. Remus stalked over the small space and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, shaking him.

"Don't touch him." The voice was low and menacing and it came from directly behind Remus.

Refusing to jump, he let go of Harry and turned slowly around. It took him a moment before his mind could grasp who actually stood behind him.

Severus Snape.

"This makes more sense than it should." He waved a hand at the overflowing waste bin and the list. "What is a potion's master without his ingredients?"

"Leave him alone and I'll tell you why I'm here and what the magical burst was. He had nothing to do with it." Severus had managed to slide around the perimeter of the room to stand behind Harry, who he touched gently on the shoulder.

Severus motioned that Harry open up his mouth so he could check his throat, he did so obediently and then Severus began mixing Firewhiskey with honey, which he gave to Harry to drink.

Remus watched all this with curious eyes. Severus hadn't willingly left his home in quite a long time. They hadn't told him that Severus had left and they kept Remus informed despite his own estranged status and insisted that he stay away from the general populace. They used him to keep hold of Harry. He was the only link they had to keep him in line. He didn't think Harry realized what his true purpose was.

Harry was coughing and sputtering as the whiskey burned his raw throat. Severus rubbed his back and kept a baleful and watchful eye on Remus.

"You look like hell Snape, what happened to you?"

Severus snorted, "The same thing that happened to everyone who tried to do the right thing."

"Don't lie. We know you sold your soul to the devil a long time ago. Your being alive isn't because you tried to do the right thing." Remus retorted self-righteously.

Harry had moved to stand more firmly in front of Severus and he watched Remus with closed off eyes. Remus looked at him and thought they were, 'killer's eyes'.

Remus wasn't immune to the words they told him about Harry. He thought him a murderer just like everyone else. It didn't matter the goal he accomplished, all that mattered was that he'd killed a lot of innocent people.

Remus sat at the table keeping wary eyes on the two recluses in front of him. An unlikely pair but Remus could see that they were a pair. They sat in unison, Severus pulled Harry's chair closer till it butt up against his.

Severus fussed over Harry and Harry tolerated it, much to Remus' surprise. Finally they sat and stared at him.

"Is Snape your new nursemaid? He's a little old for that and highly skilled, how are you paying him Harry?" He was almost shocked by the snide words that came from his mouth. He knew it was them doing this and it made him angry.

Harry's eyes flared bright and he lifted his chin in defiance but said nothing. Severus gripped the edge of his seat and his robes. Harry touched his thigh and Remus could see him back down.

"Why don't I just tell you what I know so that you can leave as quickly as possible?" Severus eyed Remus with distrust.

Remus smirked. "I don't know who is more protective, you or him. I'm sure that they will be thrilled to find out that you two are together. It'll make keeping any eye on you easier."

Harry looked confused and Severus' lips tightened into a thin line.

"What, you didn't know you were watched? Come on Harry, I know you aren't stupid." He couldn't pinpoint why he was so catty. It made no sense to him. "Tell me your story. I want to go home and the sooner I leave here the sooner I can leave the ministry and get there."

"Very well, as I told Harry, I don't exactly know what happened. I only know that I was upset and began wishing for a better place to be. I felt dizzy as though I'd taken a portkey. I woke up here in his house hours later. Beyond that, I can't tell you anything." Severus paused and smiled almost evilly, "you can leave now."

Remus barked in laughter. "You act as if you own this place; it's up to Harry to tell me to leave. It's his house."

Harry coughed lightly and took a sip of his tea, "He speaks for me too." He coughed again and his face was veiled in pain.

"Excuse me? He's been here for a day and now he speaks for you? What is going on Harry? You hate this man and you've always hated this man. Now he's in your house, in your robes and running your life and this is FINE with you?" He reached into his robes for the potion he'd brought.

Harry stood and out of his sleeve slid his wand, falling easily into place and he kept it low but obviously at Remus. He moved in front of Severus.

Remus stood abruptly and his chair skittered backwards and hit the wall. "I didn't want to do this Harry but you leave me no choice. I fear he's put you under some spell and you aren't thinking clearly. I'm taking you with me" He deftly pulled out his own wand and aimed it Harry. With a binding spell on his lips he was knocked backwards with a gust of air and hit the chair and wall behind him. His wand flew into the air and clattered on the floor. Sliding down against the wall he ended up sitting back on his chair looking dazed.

He was certain neither Harry nor Severus has said anything or moved. How then had he ended up knocked off his feet without his wand?

He blinked up at them and felt wary for the first time since entering the house. He'd always felt superior to Harry since he was injured but now he wasn't so certain. He knew he was strong but he'd never lashed out like this before. He'd never threatened him.

He didn't know who had thrown him but he had a feeling he shouldn't push his luck. He stood and unnecessarily dusted his hands on his pants. Keeping his eyes on them he walked sideways to where his wand was on the floor and knelt down and picked it up. Moving slowly he headed for the front door. The shuffling behind him indicated that Harry was following him.

He reached the door well before Harry and began unlocking the doors. It always irritated Harry when he didn't let him do the locks and it was his last stab at him. He didn't like having his back to Harry but trusted him enough that he wouldn't be underhanded or cowardly and strike while his back was turned.

He finally unlocked all the damn locks and turned to look at Harry, only it was Severus who stood behind him. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

"I trust I don't have to tell you that you aren't welcome here any longer and that hurting him is one of the stupidest things you've ever done?" Severus fairly sneered at Remus.

He nodded, he knew it but he had no choice. They wouldn't let him be happy and they wouldn't let him be close to Harry without distorting and twisting it into something that was a lie.

He walked out the door and didn't look back. He'd tell them what they asked but he knew they wouldn't ask him to return. He also knew he wouldn't see Harry again, at least, not for a very long time

In some deep recess of his mind he was sad but Harry was nothing to him, he was just another dead person's son.


	6. Chapter 6

Quondam – Part Six

Author: Taligator  
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or fictitious locations; they belong to J. K. Rowling. All original plots belong to me.

Summary: He lived in silence and solitude, outcast. Then, fate dropped in and changed his life.

* * *

Remus dreaded going back to them to report. He hated them with a passion. Hated what they'd done to him, what they'd done to Harry, and most of all how weak they made him feel. He felt as though he were a useless sort of creature, good for nothing but being their whipping boy.

Severus didn't know whose pool he was pissing in. From the looks of it he was going to try and heal Harry but very little entered that house without them knowing about it – including his potions. They kept him crippled and dependent on them, it was their only measure of control.

They were afraid of Harry. Afraid that he'd use the considerable power they'd helped hone, unto themselves. They feared he would let go of his good mild-mannered nature and take over. What they didn't know kept them in fear of him. He was, despite it all, a good person. He could take over, he certainly had the raw power but he lacked the motivation and interest to do so.

Severus would be both a welcome and unwelcome surprise. On one hand, Remus was happy that Harry would have a companion, even if it was Severus Snape but they wouldn't be pleased. He would help Harry like Remus couldn't and that made him jealous. Again, not that he wanted Severus Snape but he wanted SOMEONE to help him or try to. He'd been a right bastard to Harry and didn't deserve to be helped, he knew that much.

They controlled his Wolfsbane but that wasn't the worst part, it was the collar that was his shame. He was collared and magically neutered. He could do simple magic but he traveled solely by portkey and only by those they gave him.

Every fortnight they sent him at least two keys. One to the Ministry and one back home. If he was lucky that was all. Each was timed precisely so that he couldn't deviate from their schedule and path. He either visited them or Harry, sometimes they sent him to visit other werewolves or Order members but not often.

At first he rebelled, he didn't want to play their games and they punished him. From beatings, being chained in silver, and eventually the mind fucks. It was only when he was truly lucid, mere moments at a time that he realized them for what they were. Mostly he just grieved and felt guilt for crimes he wasn't even sure he'd committed.

They started withholding his Wolfsbane when it appeared the beatings weren't working. They'd place him in a cell to transform and when he woke the next day there would be a chewed up body beside him with eyes open wide in terror. Did they die by his teeth? He couldn't be certain. He mourned them anyway and felt immense guilt at the loss of their life. He'd rather be in their place but knew that wouldn't happen.

They always attacked him at his lowest moments, convincing him that he was a bad person and that Harry wanted to kill him. It was only by their grace and forgiveness that he lived and kept Harry from killing him.

Harry was a murderer and he would selfishly kill to save his own life. He shouldn't care at all that Harry had someone trying to save him. He shouldn't care one bit that Harry had someone to care for him.

But he did and he hated Harry for it.


	7. Chapter 7

Quondam 7

Author: Taligator  
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or fictitious locations; they belong to J. K. Rowling. All original plots belong to me.

Summary: He lived in silence and solitude, outcast. Then, fate dropped in and changed his life.

* * *

Harry shuffled up behind Severus as he was shutting the front door behind Remus. Quivering, he reached and pushed away Severus' hands. "I need to do this."

Severus moved off to the side and let Harry lock, unlock, and then lock all the locks on the door.

Harry looked at the locks again, resisting the need to repeat the process. Muggles called it obsessive compulsive disorder, he called it control. He could control the locks and make them do as he wished. They were his locks. They didn't belong to anyone else.

Severus laid his hand on Harry's then clutched at it as though understanding the compulsion. He turned to smile at Severus and they both jumped when a whooshing noise came from the fireplace in the front room.

"It will be the potions ingredients I ordered earlier." He turned and began to pull Harry along behind him.

"You gave someone my floo!" Harry stumbled as he tried to keep Severus' pace.

Severus turned a dark eye on him but said nothing. He dropped Harry's hand and knelt on the floor, picking through the various paper wrapped packages inventorying what had arrived. With a creak in the knees, he stood and headed straight for his laboratory, ignoring Harry completely.

Harry laughed softly to himself before calling out, "Severus." He waited until the man turned to him. "I need to take my walk."

Severus gave a distracted nod and continued on his way while Harry gathered up his second-best cloak and boots.

He peeked out the peephole to assure himself that there was nobody on the other side before undoing the locks. He stepped outside and smiled at the gloom of the day. It was just as grey today as it had been yesterday and yet today it was as beautiful as a day of sunshine. He walked with a slight spring in his step as he traversed the well-worn path around the perimeter of his property. His mind was as light as his step today and he did not entertain the maudlin thoughts of becoming mist as he did normally. He thought of nothing but the feeling of waking in the arms of another, even if those arms belong to Severus Snape, someone he didn't used to like.

Much sooner than normal he returned to his home and shed his outdoor clothing and padded barefoot to the kitchen. He cocked his head to the side listening for Severus and realized he was in the basement, a place he'd never been too.

He opened the door and peered down into the dank room. "Severus, I'm back."

"Come down here, the first of your potions is ready." The voice was slightly muffled.

"I can't."

There was silence and then a change of the shadows as Severus glared up the stairs. "You can't, what do you mean Mr. Potter, you can't? I've spent my time preparing a potion for you and you will take it. You need a keeper and I am here doing that for you, the least you can do is appreciate it."

Harry felt a flash of anger but let it slide away. "Stairs."

"Hmpfh," Severus moved out of sight again and then marched up the stairs with a small vial of yellow potion. "Drink it in one swallow then go drink 8 oz. of water. Lay down on the couch for an hour." He turned on the step and silently went down the stairs as quietly as he'd ever done it.

Harry followed his instructions and with his water sloshing in his stomach he maneuvered into a reclining position. Almost immediately his eyes closed of their own volition and he began to daydream.

flying

laughing

a life without pain

freedom

He started and tensed at the hand on his shoulder that woke him from the first pleasant sleep he'd had in years. Blearily he opened his eyes and smiled as he saw Severus hovering over him. "Hi."

Severus gave him a small smile. "It'll be a few days before the rest of your potions are finished. How are you feeling?"

Harry pushed his fists against the couch and struggled to sit up but the quivering in his arms caused him to fall back against the couch cushions. He looked beseechingly up at Severus, "help?"

Severus frowned and slid his right hand down Harry's back and grasped Harry's forearm in his left and push pulled until Harry sat upright. "Is this normal for you? Are you normally able to sit up on your own or do you not ever lay on this couch?"

Harry could tell that Severus was in Potions Master mode and adding this latest incident to his list of 'things to fix on Harry'. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and rocked back and forth gaining momentum and then wildly stood up and wavered in place as he balanced. "I don't think I've sat on the couch before." He turned to Severus and smiled in a way that made Severus' eyes light in a way that was becoming more and more the norm.

Severus placed an arm around Harry's middle and pulled him close as they began to walk to the kitchen. Harry fit beside him, eerily well.

As they passed the front door a loud banging on it startled them both.

"HARRY POTTER! OPEN UP IMMEDIATELY!" An unidentified voice echoed through area.

Harry whispered to Severus, "basement, hide."

Severus began to protest but the hard look in Harry's eye made him rethink his objection and he released Harry and ran to clean up the kitchen and lock himself in the basement.

Harry turned to the front door and looked through the peephole, seeing 20 Aurors on his front stoop was not something he was used to seeing and certainly not something he wanted to see. He unlocked the door, forgoing his need to lock and unlock them again in favor of getting this over with.

He swung open the door, leaning heavily on the side as though it was just the doorframe that kept him in place.

A tall muscular man in his early twenties stepped forward with a look on his face that was harsh and unforgiving. "Potter, we have reason to believe you are harboring a fugitive on these premises. We demand that you step aside." He poked Harry with the tip of his wand. "Do not make me move you or else."

Harry shuffled to the left and opened up the door to them Aurors. He wasn't expected to speak so he didn't. He watched as they swarmed into and around his house like a horde of pesky bees. He watched with distant eyes, he'd allowed them too much but now wasn't the time to stand up for himself. He wasn't strong enough yet.

In just a few short minutes the swarthy head Auror stepped back up into his face. "Where is he?"

Harry attempted to look innocent and shrugged his shoulders, "who?" He croaked out roughly, making it worse than it was. He couched on the man while trying to hang onto the wall and his balance.

The Auror stepped backward with a look of distaste on his face. "Severus Snape. He was reported to be here. He is a prisoner of the system. He is a danger to this world and I will bring him with me, whether you help or not. If you help, perhaps we won't station Aurors here full-time."

Harry swallowed and motioned to the dining room where a tablet of paper lay. He moved slowly to the table and sat down heavily on the chair. He began writing in a quick scrawl, _"Who told you he was here?"_

"I don't have time for this. Where is he?"

Harry glared up at the man, _"WHO TOLD YOU?"_

"Lupin, who else, that mangy werewolf friend of yours couldn't wait to get back to the Ministry quick enough to rat you out." A greasy smile lit the features of the Auror.

Harry stiffened his spine at the words, he'd known Remus wasn't all that he appeared but to give up this was just one more stab in his back. The use of the word rat hadn't been lost on Harry either. _"He left. He hates me anyway. He left after Remus did and said he hoped that I enjoyed the rest of my painful life."_

The Auror clearly didn't believe him but as he and his team couldn't find Severus anywhere on the property or in the house he decided to drop it. "If you are lying to me, I will make sure the rest of your life is more painful than it already is you murderer." He turned on his heel and with a quick motion him and the rest of his team apparated out of the house.

Harry felt tears prick at his eyelids but he remained stoic. He stood up and the blood rushed upwards to his head as he moved toward the kitchen. Where the basement door normally stood was a picture of a forest glade. He knocked on the wall, "Severus?" He moved backward to sit against the kitchen table as the wall shimmered and the door appeared.

Severus poked his head out around the edge of the door. "They are gone?" He moved fully out of the door and began to check Harry over.

Harry nodded and picked up the pad of paper, too distraught to speak. _"They said you are a prisoner of the system and that I'm harboring a fugitive. Are you?"_

Severus snorted, "I suppose that I am. Like you I'm locked in my home and watched constantly. If I choose to leave my home I have at least six Auror's with me at all times. They couldn't deny my part in the war but that didn't mean they trusted me." A final brush to the fringe on Harry's forehead and he leaned in closer, pulling Harry up against his tall frame, squeezing him gently.

Harry relaxed in the hold and sighed. He had no idea what they'd do but for now he was content for perhaps the first time in years.


End file.
